Edro gûr lín
by ravenclawseekergirl638
Summary: Oneshots featuring everyone from Aragorn to Glorfindel. 5 Erestor has trouble dealing with the past.
1. Chapter 1

**Edro gûr lín**

**Open your heart**

AN: This is to be a place for me to put all the fluffy/angsty/whatever oneshots i've been writing whilst on holiday

Disclaimer Not mine .Not mine …

Ship

"Do you have, any idea what you are doing laddie?" Gimli grumbled, passing Legolas yet another plank of wood.

"I'm building a ship." Legolas smiled sadly picking up the hammer and rapping it forcefully against a rather stubborn nail. "My time it seems is over. Although you are invited to join me if you wish." Gimli sighed ,since Elessar's passing , his close friend hadn't been the same. Instead of being his usual wood elf self(talking to trees, climbing trees ,planting new trees enc)he had started building this 'boat'. The sun shone down though the summer foliage, of the Ithilien forest's trees onto the two very different friends. Two months had passed since Legolas had started the build, and if Gimli was to be brutally honest the 'ship' looked more like a coffee table. Certainly not like something that was meant to carry two people across the western sea to elvenhome.

"Are you sure you're following the right instructions Thranduilion? Because that sure doesn't look like much of a ship to me!"

Legolas sighed, leaned back from sanding an offensive sharp edge and lifted and eyebrow accusingly at his long time friend and companion. Casually his gaze flickered towards the instructions and the title.

"AH! Damn!" The blonde elven archer swore. The level of his Quenyan had never been great . Written at the top of the scroll ,in curling script, 'How to make your very first decorative table.' Gimli chuckled as the 'ship' collapsed before them in a cloud of dust.

"Maybe you should have let me build it."

AN: Yes Legolas does need some serious help with his Quenya and carpentry skills. I'm sure Gimli can help with the latter. :D


	2. Chapter 2

**An: Thanks to the people who have reviewed and favourited **

**Disclaimer: Don't own, never will. **

Passing

Shining in the sun, Meuseled stood strong and proud, as it always had since the days of his forefathers. Deep down in his bones, he knew that this day was to be his last upon middle earth. Eomer struggled to sit up in the tiny bed he had took as his own, since Lothiriel's passing. Their shared chambers still caused him to much sorrow, without her presence to hold him in the night. To comfort and care for him.

Elfwine stood at the door, holding Eomer's fourth grandchild, a little boy they had yet to name.

"Father..." Elfwine called gently, walking towards him cuddling the child close to his body, wrapped soundly in an old knitted shawl. The shawl looked suspiciously like one Lothiriel had laboured over for a certain little boy,who had grown up, all to quickly. "We've decided n a name for this little fellow. Brunhilde and I wish to call him Merry. If you don't mind, of course." Eomer smiled sadly, reaching out to hold the baby. Merry had passed on five years ago today.

"He would be so honoured." Deep blue eyes stared back at him, and the king sighed heavily. "It's a shame that you'll never remember me little Merry. But I'll always be with you and all of my loved ones. You must only look into your heart."

It was then that king Eomer the first of Rohan, took his final breath and departed the circles of this world t be reunited with his beloved Lothiriel in the halls of his fathers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer Not mine !**

**Father son.**

Earendil stood at the prow of his ship and gazed down at his remaining son. He was so proud of Elrond! Over the past two ages of the world, Elrond had endured things that even his father had thought would break his body and his fea. But Earendil had been proven wrong Elrond had not only survived whatever life threw at him, but he had thrived. Rivendell was the proof of this. The beauty of the haven for refugees that the Noldor had built, rivaled that of the blessed realm.

The last time he had spoken with his eldest child he had told him.

"If you ever need me ion nin, just look up! I'll be there watching over you and Elros, for ever." If only he had known the fate his youngest would choose. As a father he would have savoured every moment they had together just that little bit more. Earendil sighed and withdrew back to the cabin of Vigilot. Not for the first, or the last time he cursed Feanor for ever creating the Simarils. They had brought only death and suffering to the world.


	4. Chapter 4

**Too young**

Once again one of his brothers descendants had died. Every death, replaying the events of many millennia ago. Elros had chosen the path of the Edain, and so to be counted as one of them. Mortal. To receive their 'gift'. Sighing he leaned against the carven balustrade of his private balcony. For a moment it shocked Elrond, that he still did not consider Rivendell home. Tirion had been his home, but it was long since gone. As was almost everyone who had walked it's streets. Through death or the pull of the sea, her people dwindled daily. The city had stood proudly by the feet of the hill Tuna, even now Elrond could feel the wind come blowing across the shadowmere, rustling the leaves of the trees.

Ever since Celebrian had sailed many decades ago the sea had begun to call him. Each year the pull became stronger. But he would resist it, for as long as he could, his children still needed him. Even though they were all long into adulthood, even by elvish standards. The vale of Rivendell still needed his guidance, and the Dunadain now needed him to protect their next chieftain. Aragorn son of Arathorn, the only hope for mankind.

The child was much to young to take up his inheritance. Far to young to have his father taken so cruelly from him. At this moment, his twin sons rode with all haste to escort Arathorn's newly widowed lady to the hidden vale. Elrond had decided to take them both under his wing, not to only offer them protection,but to make them a part f his loving family. After all little Aragorn was his nephew, in a roundabout kind of way.

All he could hope was that he wouldn't get too attached to them, after all they were mortal. And all mortals die, he had found that out the hard way.


	5. Chapter 5

**An: This is a Glorfindel/Erestor slash fic. Dont like, dont read :)**

**Ravens **

A harsh caw resounded through the peace of the hidden valley. Easily missed, amid the much pleasanter singing of the elven bards in the hall of fire, accompanied by minstrels on harps and flutes. The inhabitants of the haven, carried out their nightly business, some sleeping, others dancing feasting and many warriors starting their patrol duty. All but one chief councillor. He was otherwise preoccupied with memories of times long past.

Erestor sat bolt upright, disturbed from his already tormented thoughts. His heart hammered in his chest, breathing laboured as he struggled to get enough breath. The walls of his chambers were closing in, shrinking, smaller and smaller. Where previously the arms of his lover had been comforting now they were constricting.

"No Naneth! No!" Erestor shook from head to toe, in terror, as he was transported back three thousand years. "Please don't leave me."  
Glorfindel awoke abruptly, his warrior instincts telling him that something was wrong . As he came out of his reverie the balrog slayer looked lovingly at towards his bond mate. In the darkness Erestor's entire body trembled. The dreams were back, but they were more memories than dreams. His eyes alternated between rolling back into his head and flicking from left to right. "Daro...Ada!" Glorfindel stroked the obsidian hair that he loved so much, cradling the much smaller form in his arms, trying to calm the councillor down and bring him comfort.

"Meleth. Meleth nin. Glorfindel is here." Something in Erestor snapped and he sagged like a rag-doll into his embrace, crying pitifully. A sound that tore at his mates fea.

"The ravens came again." Erestor sobbed cuddling into the dependable warmth of his husband, before laying them both back down onto the giant four poster bed. Placing a chaste kiss on Glorfindel's cheek.

This was starting to become a routine for them now. Almost every night, one of them would wake from tormented dreams of ravens or fire and death. But they were becoming less frequent with time. Together they were healing wounds that should have healed long ago.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disguises**

Every child loves to dress up and become some one else. For Faramir it was an escape from his life in the citadel, sometimes he would find an empty room and play there for hours all on his own, as he had no friends to play with. Well there was Boromir but he had changed recently no longer would he play with his little brother he was to old to do such silly things. Mostly he pretended to be a soldier of Gondor and he rampaged about the house slaying dragons and wargs. His father disapproved of course, he always did, but this time Denethor did nothing to stop it. After all it was practice for battles he would have to fight when he became a man. When he was much younger, he had found himself pretending that his mother hadn't died, that she was only on holiday in Dol Amroth and that one day she would walk back in through the doors again and they would all be a happy family again. But it never happened


End file.
